The rain is sputtering all around us.
“I’m sorry our picnic was ruined,” he says, and I can tell by the way his chest deflates and his shoulders drop that he means every word.
“I think this is even better.” I sink down onto the soaking-wet blanket beside him. “We’re in a gazebo, in the middle of a rainstorm. This is one of my top three romantic fantasies.”
Dax raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that right? What are the other two?”
“Meeting a handsome stranger at a masquerade ball. And the lift from Dirty Dancing. We can try that one later once we finish the wine. Make it a two-outta-three kind of night.”
Dax smiles, relaxing a little. “I had a whole plan.”
“Tell me about it.”
Dax looks back wistfully at our picnic. “We were going to eat, maybe drive up the mountain and look at the city lights, and then head to my place for more wine.”
“Where we’d have hot sex on a bearskin rug in front of a fire? Because that’s a solid number four on my list.”
Dax laughs. “My rug is from IKEA, and my fireplace isn’t functional.”
“I have a very good imagination.”
Dax looks around the gazebo. The rain falls like a curtain around us and makes a soft pitter-patter sound on the roof.
“This is pretty romantic.” I inch a little closer, bringing my hands to his chest. “And your shirt is kind of see-through.”
His eyes drop to my chest. “So is yours.”
He brings his index finger to my chin and tips my head up ever so slightly so that I’m looking up at him as he places the softest, most chaste kiss on my lips. The effect it has on my body is not chaste. Quite the opposite. It sends a blazing heat from my mouth all the way to the tips of my toes.
I kiss him again, but this time, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his body tight to mine. Our tongues intertwine, and he lets go of a low little growl that comes right from his chest, and it has me wondering if it would be so terrible to shed all of our clothes and have sex right here. The cement floor doesn’t bode well for comfort, but with the rain flowing down around us, turning everything outside of our little bubble into one big gray blur, it’s pretty idyllic.
“You’re shivering.” He runs the pads of his fingers down my arms, giving me goosebumps.
“I’m usually a fair-weather maker-outer. Not used to the elements.”
Dax pulls me in tight, bringing me closer to the heat of his chest.
“So I’m at a disadvantage already. Guess I better up my game if I’m going to make this night memorable.”
He brings his mouth to mine. A slow, soft press that deepens as his tongue parts my lips. For a moment I forget everything. The rain. The cold. Every kiss that came before this one. As if none of it matters but him and me and this moment.
When he finally pulls away, I feel the loss immediately. I mourn it and the feeling sends an involuntary shudder down my spine.
“Okay, your teeth are chattering now. I’d take off this wet T-shirt and give it to you, but I don’t think it would help.”
“Oh, it would definitely help.”
He pulls me back to his chest again. Into that little nook below his chin where I fit just perfectly. Like he was made for me. And he runs his hands down my arm. Faster this time. “What do you say we make a run for the car?”
The friction brings enough heat to make me admit that I’m freezing. Part of me wants to suck it up. To stay in this perfect romantic bubble where there’s no ticking clock. The other part is very aware that Dax’s T-shirt is no longer leaving anything to the imagination. And the faster we get out of here, the faster we can get out of these wet clothes.
“You grab the basket. I’ll hold the cheese.”
Dax dumps all of our drenched picnic gear back into the basket, then reaches for my hand.
“We go on three?”
I nod, eyeing the rain still pouring down in sheets.
“One.” Dax squeezes my hand. “Two.” He weaves our fingers together. “Three.”
We race straight through the grass to the parking lot. By the time we reach the car, I’m so drenched that it pains me to get inside.
Dax’s Toyota may be getting on in years, but it’s meticulously clean. He holds the door open with a pace and ease that ignores the rain teeming around us. I ease my way in, trying hard to touch as little of the seat as possible as Dax runs around to the driver’s side and climbs in beside me.
“I’m sorry, I’m squishy and wet.” There’s a literal pool of water at my feet.
He reaches over and brushes a stray strand of hair from my forehead. “I’m sorry our night went to shit.”
“Picnic may have gone a little south, but the night is savable. I’m still having a lot of fun.”
“Me too.” Dax leans across the center console, and I’m treated to another chaste kiss. Oh, dear lord. If these sweet little pecks are driving me this wild, I’m going to be in trouble later on.
Reaching into his jeans, he pulls out his keys and inserts them into the ignition, but when he turns, all that happens is the dreaded run-na-nun-ah sound.
He tries a second time, then a third, and when still nothing happens, he coaxes the engine with a “Come on, baby,” gently rubbing the leather dash.
For a moment, I’m convinced it’s going to work. If Dax rubbed me like that and whispered those sweet words, I’d be turned on in an instant. But nothing happens.
“Shit.” He leans his head against the leather steering wheel, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I always thought Toyota Avalons were immortal, but I guess everything has its breaking point.”
Dax doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. And I swear I hear him whisper, “This is the last thing I need right now.”
I reach up and squeeze his shoulder. It’s the same comforting gesture he gave to me the night of the grocery store rescue.
Dax rolls his head toward me, his temple still on the wheel. He reaches across the console, grabs my hand, and laces our fingers together.
“Any chance you have CAA?” I ask.
Dax lets out a long sigh. “I did until about a month ago when I let it lapse.” He lifts his head and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a phone. “I’ll text Dougie. He’s got a guy who hopefully won’t hose me.”
Ten minutes and two phone calls later, we have a tow on its way to get us.
“Sorry again, Gemma, I really—”
“Hey.” I hold a finger playfully up to his lips. “Enough apologizing already. You can’t control the weather or when your car will die. And if you could, I would have a much bigger problem I would need your help to tackle. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I was having fun. And I still am. I like hanging out with you.”
Dax brings his hand to my cheek, then brings his forehead to mine, so they’re touching. “Where on your list is making out in a car?”